


All the Best Intentions, Really

by pyrrhical (anoyo)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Canon Timeline but Dubious Fanon Compliance, Collection: Poly Trolley 2018, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Unconventional courtship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-16 09:12:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14808458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoyo/pseuds/pyrrhical
Summary: Percival persuades Gwaine to finally, finally ask Merlin out. Merlin doesn't answer quite as expected.





	All the Best Intentions, Really

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agirlnamedtruth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/gifts).



> Dear Reader,
> 
> I hope you enjoy this: I tried to pull together a few of your tags and general "likes" from your letter -- I hope I succeeded! 
> 
> This fic was beta'd by the lovely Diana and Sky, without whom it would make no sense, because really, my brain is a fairly senseless place. All remaining errors are because I sometimes ignore advice, and typos have the tendency to survive even the best editing. (They're the nuclear cockroaches of writing.)

“You know,” Percival says, gesturing with his mostly-full mug of ale, “you really ought to just give it a go.”

Gwaine flinches at how close Percival’s mug comes to spilling, though he knows better than to believe Percival would let good ale escape. “Give what a go?” he asks. 

Percival gestures again, this time to the other side of the tent. Across a number of other benches, all hosting more ale-splashed conversation, Gwaine follows Percival’s gesture to where Merlin stands, barely underneath the tent’s overhang, speaking with one or another of the villagers. 

“No,” Gwaine says, turning back to his friend. “I fail to see how that could be anything but a disaster.”

Percival shrugs, then says, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Gwaine narrows his eyes, considering, before answering slowly. “Well, I could horribly offend Merlin, who will then tell Arthur, and then I’d be burnt at the stake for unnatural tendencies.”

“Unlikely,” Percival says, waving the words away. “Arthur doesn’t care.” He shrugs and smiles, then adds, “And Merlin’s too nice.”

Picking up his mug and draining it before answering, Gwaine glances back in Merlin’s direction. Merlin hasn’t moved, but in the time that’s passed Arthur has joined him. Merlin and Arthur make a somewhat surreal picture, standing there. The torches behind them almost give each their own halo, and the gold of Arthur’s crown gleams like light itself. “Merlin isn’t always nice,” Gwaine counters. “And if Merlin cares, Arthur cares.”

He rolls his eyes at Percival’s answering sigh. “No one’s being killed, Merlin’s happy. He’s easy like that,” Percival says. “You need better excuses.”

“Better than not wanting to be burned at the stake?” Gwaine asks. He knows he ought to be more concerned, but Percival’s smiling widely at him and the ale is warm in his gut. Somehow, it almost seems like a good idea.

“Yes,” Percival says. He pauses, then smiles. “I’ll buy for a month,” he adds, gesturing again with his mug, this time to Gwaine himself.

“A month,” Gwaine repeats. 

“If you don’t, the month’s on you.” Percival finishes his ale, then sets the mug on the table as though its emptiness is a metaphor for all the ale Gwaine might have, or have to offer.

Gwaine flicks a finger against the empty mug. “Blackmail,” he says. He narrows his eyes at Percival, finger still resting on a few remnants of foam.

Percival smiles. “If you like.”

Gwaine glances back toward Merlin, who is alone now, then says, “If I’m thrown in the dungeon, you’re getting me out.”

“Of course,” Percival agrees.

Gwaine takes a breath, then stands. “I suppose I have to now, or you’ll beggar me.”

“Hmm,” Percival says, the smile still lingering on his lips.

It’s only a few steps to the far side of the tent and Merlin is smiling when Gwaine stops next to him. “Hello,” Gwaine says, though he immediately regrets it. 

Merlin gives him a crooked smile. “Hi,” Merlin says. “How’d you like the festival?”

“It was great,” Gwaine answers before glancing around. “A bit of a blur, but it was enjoyable.” 

Merlin nods. Gwaine can’t remember what the festival had been for, precisely, but he thinks it has something to do with auspicious dates. Really, it had been an outlet for the townsfolk to get together and loose some of their pent-up energy after ten straight days of hot and humid weather. He remembers something about increases in arrests for general mischief and then Arthur ordering Merlin to find something for them to pin a festival on. There had been games and challenges all day with food provided by the castle. It had been enough to put aside the heat and enjoy the company.

“Definitely enjoyable,” Gwaine repeats.

“I’m glad,” Merlin says, the crooked grin still on his face. Gwaine realizes he’s shown better conversational skills in the past; he blames Percival.

“Could I ask you something privately?” Gwaine says, making a gesture toward some temporary fencing they’d had put up. 

Merlin’s eyebrows go up, but he nods. “Of course.”

Gwaine’s feet drag on the short walk, as though he’s headed off to be scolded for releasing the chickens again, rather than to ask an awkward question of a good friend. Once they’ve reached the fence, Gwaine drops back to lean against it.

Merlin drops his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. His eyebrows furrow. “What is it?” he asks, his voice concerned.

“Oh, no,” Gwaine starts. He pauses to take a breath. “I mean, no, nothing is amiss.”

“Oh,” Merlin says, confusion replacing concern.

“Really, I wanted to know if you would care to go to dinner in the lower town,” Gwaine says, then adds, “With me, I mean. Dinner with me.”

Merlin pauses a moment, then asks, “Romantically, you mean?” His voice is surprisingly blunt, but if there’s judgment there, Gwaine can’t hear it.

“Yes.” 

“Huh,” Merlin says. 

Gwaine feels himself startle a bit. He had been expecting a quick refusal, though one with Merlin’s usual kindness, no matter how he had catastrophized to Percival. When he had let himself hope, it came out as a simple yes with a bit of the sharply brilliant smile Merlin pulled out on occasion. At no point in all his imaginings had Gwaine expected anything in between. 

“I mean,” Merlin adds, a few moments later, “I can’t really answer that.” He has a considering look on his face, and Gwaine doesn’t hear a ‘no’ in that sentence.

“No?” Gwaine asks. 

Merlin’s eyebrows draw back together. “Well, I mean it depends,” he says, guileless. “Stay here a moment,” he says, then walks off.

“Sure,” Gwaine says, after Merlin is out of hearing distance. “I’ll do that.”

It takes several moments for Merlin to return, and when he does, he’s brought Arthur along.

Gwaine has two very different thoughts in quick succession: first, that Merlin is, in fact, going to have Arthur burn Gwaine at the stake, which is followed by wondering if Merlin needs Arthur’s permission to be courted. Gwaine dismisses the second as ridiculous and can’t match the expressions on either Merlin or Arthur’s faces with the first, so he settles on a third: per usual when it comes to Merlin, Gwaine has no idea what’s going on.

“So,” Merlin says, and Gwaine drags his attention back to Merlin’s face. “I’ve spoken with Arthur.”

“You have,” Gwaine says. He glances at Arthur, who seems to be watching Gwaine closely with a hint of amusement wrinkling the crows’ feet at his eyes. 

“Yes,” Merlin repeats before turning to look at Arthur. 

More amusement leaks onto Arthur’s face in the few moments of silence that follow, before Arthur breaks them with a bark of laugh. “Merlin,” he says, eyes dancing, still looking at Gwaine. Gwaine can only imagine the confusion on his own face, but he refrains from overreacting, either by running away or panicking, and instead glances at Merlin.

Merlin has his eyebrows raised, his mouth tucked into a small frown. “Arthur,” he counters, his voice just as bland as Arthur’s.

“Merlin,” Arthur repeats, “I think you’ve missed a detail or two.”

Merlin’s frown deepens as he glances between Arthur and Gwaine. 

Arthur gestures at Gwaine, then says, “I believe Gwaine’s intention is to court you.” Arthur raises his eyebrows at Gwaine. “Yes?”

Before Gwaine can respond, Merlin says, “Yes, I know that, Arthur.”

“Just you,” Arthur says. He’s still looking at Gwaine, but his smile is drifting from amused to indulgent. 

“Oh,” Merlin says. He blinks at Arthur for a moment before he turns to Gwaine. “Really?”

Gwaine is fairly certain there’s a correct answer to this question, but he’s not at all sure he’s in possession of it. After a moment, he tries, “Yes?”

“Huh,” Merlin says. He glances between Gwaine and Arthur for a few moments before his eyebrows shoot up. “Oh!”

Arthur laughs again, then says, “Yes, Merlin. Oh.”

Merlin’s expression manages to be both contrite and embarrassed in equal measures. “I’m so sorry,” he says, looking straight at Gwaine. “I thought you knew.” Merlin gestures between himself and Arthur. “Everyone else seems to.”

Gwaine stares for a moment before he feels something fall into place: the last little clue to what that correct answer was. He blinks a few times before he manages, “You’re courting Arthur.”

Arthur starts, “Actually--” before Merlin speaks over him.

“Don’t even try,” Merlin says, waving a hand at Arthur. To Gwaine, he says, “Yes.” He gives Gwaine an apologetic gesture. “I thought you meant both of us.”

“Both of you?” Gwaine repeats. Once the words have left his mouth, he realizes Merlin’s meaning. “Oh! Oh, wow.” Gwaine pauses, flicking his eyes between Merlin and Arthur. “Does that happen often?”

Arthur stops scowling at Merlin -- presumably for cutting him off -- to shrug at Gwaine. “Perhaps not frequently, but often enough.”

“Oh,” Gwaine repeats. He glances back and forth between Merlin and Arthur a few more times. 

“You really didn’t know?” Merlin asks. He squints and tilts his head, making Gwaine reminiscent of a puzzled dog, smelling scraps but unable to find them. “No,” Gwaine says. 

Arthur snorts. “You’re lucky your reflexes are so good. If you had to rely on perception alone in a fight, you’d have died ages ago.” Merlin scowls and Arthur shrugs. “I’d have thought one of the others would have told you, at the least.”

“The others,” Gwaine says. He turns his head in the direction of the tent, but in the time he’s been away, it’s mostly cleared out. “Would those others include Percival?”

“Yes?” Merlin guesses. The look on Merlin’s face makes Gwaine feel a little less like he’s rowing in a circle on a clear day.

Arthur laughs when Gwaine sighs. “I believe that I have been had,” Gwaine says. Then, “Though this means he must have known he’d lose the bet.”

Merlin makes a face. “You made a bet with Percival?”

“Was it very specific?” Arthur asks. He trades a glance with Merlin, his earlier laugh lingering in his eyes.

“Yes,” Gwaine says, then pauses. Percival had said he’d buy: he’d only implied alcohol. “No.” Gwaine sighed and crossed his arms. Percival had tricked him with clever wagers in the past, as well. Really, Gwaine ought to have known. 

Arthur claps a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder. “He’s had us all,” he says, though the laughter continues to linger.

Merlin shrugs. “At least you won?” Gwaine sighs again and Merlin smiles. “And really, if you do decide you mean both of us, the answer’s still yes.”

“But very much no, otherwise,” Arthur says. He steps a little further into Merlin’s space -- he’s always in Merlin’s personal space, Gwaine realizes -- but he’s still smiling.

Merlin smiles brightly. “And if Arthur keeps speaking, it might just be a blanket yes.” His grin crooks when Arthur huffs. “Just not tonight.”

Gwaine waits for Arthur to respond, or Merlin to speak again, but when they don’t, he says, “Right.” He pauses. “And yes. I mean, I’d love to, when it works.” Gwaine aims for a smile, but isn’t quite sure he’s hit the mark.

“Very good,” Arthur says. He reaches out to clap Gwaine on the shoulder. “Now, it’s late.” Arthur’s hand ventures back down, though it settles on Merlin’s arm, rather than returning to Arthur’s hip. “You ought to head back to the castle, stop being nervous, and we’ll speak tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Gwaine says. He glances between Arthur and Merlin again, who appear to be having a conversation through sheer body language and will alone. “I’ll do that.” He smiles, nods, and turns toward the castle, feeling as though he’s exhausted all the subtlety he possesses, and rather a lot of the good sense, too.

Gwaine hears Arthur and Merlin begin to speak when he’s a few paces away, but tunes it out in favor of picking his way up the hill and toward the castle. The castle, where Percival waits in their shared chambers, likely smiling and whistling over the good one he’s pulled over on Gwaine.

Traitor.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I didn't have time to write it, but I do have the conversation that Merlin & Arthur have off camera set pretty well in stone, if you'd like to see that. (Also Gwaine throwing things at Percival, but I think we _all_ have that one covered.)
> 
> Again, all typographical, syntactical, and grammatical errors remain my own. If you spot one, please let me know so that I can fix it! (Or potentially chalk it up to creative license because I do that sometimes.)


End file.
